


Song for a Winter's Night

by nightscape



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Comfort, M/M, What do you even call this genre?, minewt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightscape/pseuds/nightscape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho finds himself lost in the woods, where he meets a beautiful boy with a not-so-pretty secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song for a Winter's Night

Minho thinks he must be the biggest dumbass to ever walk this Earth.  
  
Which idiot would decide to go on a solo camping trip in the dead of winter, with only a smartphone to guide the way? Only Minho. Which idiot would lose his smartphone and only source of GPS in the snow without even realizing it? Yep, only Minho. And which idiot would find himself lost in the middle of a vast snowy forest at night, with no way to signal for help? You guessed it- Minho.  
  
"'Leave tracks in the snow', they said," he huffs at nobody in particular, ripping a chunk out of a half-cooked sausage. The wind howls in his ears, threatening to put out the pathetic little fire he'd built in the middle of the clearing. "Good job, Minho. You just killed yourself."  
  
A particularly strong gust of wind chills him right to the bone, and he pulls his parka a little tighter around himself. A quick survey of his dwindling supplies tells him that he has about two more days to get the hell out of there before he either starves or freezes to death- or worse, both.  
  
Unfortunately for Minho, he's too preoccupied with calculating the days to his demise to realize that the sausage has slipped from his gloved fingers and rolled into the fire. When he finally notices that one-fifth of his food supply has been swallowed up by flames, he swears loudly enough to be heard from miles away.  
  
His string of colorful curses cuts off abruptly when a figure stumbles into the clearing. Minho's first reaction is to yell and scramble to his feet, but he quickly calms down when he realizes it's a _boy_. He looks no older than Minho, with a rust-coloured parka and blonde hair peeking out from underneath a beanie.  
  
"What the fu- oh, sorry. Hey, are you alright?" Minho is sorely tempted to ask for directions to civilization, but the first thing he notices is the boy's terrible limp. With one of his legs bent at such an odd angle, it's a wonder he can even walk.  
  
"I'm fine," the stranger replies, slightly breathless. "Just freezing my arse off out here. I'd nearly lost all hope of finding somebody else in this godforsaken place. Sorry for the scare," he adds.  
  
"I take it as you're lost too?" Minho asks, feeling the tiny spark of hope in his chest extinguish. As much as he enjoys company, the company of another lost soul won't be of much help now.  
  
The other boy takes a backwards glance at the pitch darkness of the forest from which he'd emerged. "Kind of. Can I- can I come sit with you? It's awfully cold."

  
\--

  
Once the shivering stranger has settled down beside him on the tarp, Minho offers him a foil-wrapped potato. "Here, you look like you need it more than I do."  
  
"Thanks," the stranger says, hastily unwrapping it and taking a huge bite. He looks so cold and weary that Minho can't help but take pity on him.  
  
"So who are you, and how did you end up here?"  
  
The stranger pauses mid-bite. "Gosh, I'm sorry. My name's Isaac. You can call me Newton or Newt, though. I came out here alone to take photos, wandered off too far and... I won't go into details. How about yourself?"  
  
"Isaac Newton, huh," Minho chuckles, breath escaping in tiny puffs of mist. "I think I like Newt better, though. Anyway, I'm Minho. I was camping, then lost my phone and tracks in the snow, so-" he gestures to their surroundings- "here I am, with you."  
  
Newt regards him with a thoughtful expression before wolfing down the last bits of his potato. "How long have you been out here?"  
  
"Two days. I was supposed to head back home this afternoon, but shit happened. And you?"  
  
"I... don't know. Probably longer than that. Wandering around in a place like this makes you lose all sense of time, doesn't it?"  
  
Minho looks up at the trees, seemingly endless and twisted by the dancing shadows from the flames. He suppresses a shiver. "Yeah, kinda. It feels like we're trapped in some sort of maze. Makes my head spin."  
  
"Every maze has an exit," Newt says absently, his eyes fixated on the fire. Minho can't help but notice that they're the prettiest shade of deep brown, and tinged by sadness.  
  
They lose themselves in conversation soon after. Minho learns that Newt loves photography, music and home-cooked food more than anything else, that he was born in London and moved to America a few years ago because of his father's work, that his childhood dream was to be a runner. He also learns that Newt has the most adorable frown and an equally cute smile, as well as a laugh that sends warmth blossoming through Minho's chest, right down to his frozen toes.  
  
When Minho brings up the topic of returning home, however, that wondrous smile disappears.  
  
"When I get out of here, I swear I'm gonna spend an entire day in front of the radiator. Take a nice warm bath, maybe drink a cup of hot chocolate, or ten. How 'bout you?" Minho asks.  
  
He doesn't miss the slump of the blonde boy's shoulders, nor the unexplainable sadness welling up in his eyes. "I'll go visit my family," Newt murmurs, casting his eyes downwards. He fiddles with the hem of his parka, searching for another answer. "My friends too, if I have the time."  
  
Minho desperately wants to probe, to find the source of the other boy's misery. But he isn't keen on making things even gloomier in this depressing place, so he swallows his questions. "Man, I'm running low on firewood," he says, getting to his feet and stretching. "Now would be a good time for sleep, don't you think?"  
  
"Agreed," Newt responds with a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks more tired than anything else, Minho thinks as he makes his way over to his tent.  
  
"What do you say to spending the night with me?" Minho asks playfully, drawing back the tent flaps and mock-bowing in invitation.  
  
"It would be a waste to turn down such a generous offer, good sir." The blonde boy plays along good-naturedly, but the grin is wiped right off his face when he tries to stand. "Ow, this bloody burden of a leg--"  
  
"Hey, hey, don't move. Let me help you." Minho releases the tent flaps and half-jogs through the snow to help Newt up, feeling guilty for letting the other boy's injury slip his mind. "How did you get hurt, by the way?"  
  
"Fell down," is all Newt says, and Minho gets a feeling that he shouldn't ask any further.  
  
  
  
  
They end up using Minho's sleeping bag as a blanket. The wind batters the tent from all directions, and the two boys subconsciously huddle closer to one another.  
  
"Newt, you're _freezing_ ," Minho says. He fights the urge to wrap his arms around the shivering boy, to press some heat into his icy skin. Instead, he yanks off his gloves, then reaches out to take both of Newt's hands in his.  
  
Newt flinches in surprise, but eventually relaxes into the other boy's touch. "Sorry if I made you feel awkward," Minho apologizes. "But you might get frostbite if you don't warm up a little."  
  
"It's fine," Newt says with a small laugh, breath ghosting across Minho's face. "It does feel nice. Thank you."  
  
At that moment, another question pops into Minho's mind. "Where are all your belongings? You weren't carrying anything when I first saw you."  
  
The blonde boy sighs. "I left them all behind a while ago. I'd lost all hope then." His voice is slightly pained. "Figured there was no point in lugging all those items along if I was going to... to die here anyway."  
  
Minho stiffens, feeling his heart sink. He hadn't realized how much he's grown to care for this stranger-turned-companion in the short span of one night. "Don't say that."  
  
"I know, I know. When you've been out in the wilderness for days, wandering in circles through the snow with no end in sight and little hope of getting out alive, you'll retreat to a dark corner of your mind that you didn't even know existed. I never want to go back there again."  
  
"I'll walk this entire forest, run if I have to, just to find us a way out. So don't give up hope just yet." The words tumble from Minho's mouth before he can stop them. A part of him knows they might not make it after all, but he just wants Newt to feel safe.  
  
"I won't," Newt reassures.  
  
"Good."

 

  
They lie together quietly for a while, unspoken thoughts hanging in the air between them. The darkness seems to press down on them, luring the boys to the brink of sleep.  
  
"It was cold and terrifying out there," Newt pipes up drowsily, "and so, so lonely. I'm glad I found you, Minho."  
  
And there it is again, the warmth that fills every inch of Minho's body. He smiles, feeling his eyelids grow heavier by the second. "Glad I found you, too. We'll get out of here tomorrow, okay?"  
  
All he gets in response is silence. Newt must have dozed off.

  
As he drifts off to sleep, Minho decides that he doesn't quite mind being lost in the woods if Newt is with him.  
  
"Listen, Minho," he hears the boy say all of a sudden, words echoing oddly through the fog of sleep that engulfs him. There is a strange urgency in his voice. "I know a way out of here. Keep walking east, and you'll find a frozen river. Follow it north till you reach the edge of the forest. You can find your way home from there. You'll survive. And thank you- for everything."  
  
Minho wants to say something, but sleep pulls him under before he can respond. The last thought he registers before succumbing is: _If Newt knows the way out, why doesn't he take it?_

  
\--

  
Hours later, Minho wakes up to muted sunlight and the sound of dogs barking.  
  
He nearly laughs at the absurdity of the situation. _Just what I needed,_ he thinks. _A pack of wild dogs to rip my throat out. Or Newt's._  
  
_...Newt?_  
  
He barely has time to panic over the now-empty space beside him before a human shadow appears outside the tent and the zip is pulled down.  
  
A man dressed in a thick blue uniform crouches to peer into the tent. His badge glints in the sunlight. "Sorry to disrupt your outing, sir, but I'm going to have to escort you away from this area."  
  
Minho scrambles out of the tent to stand in the snow, his heart racing with hope and relief. "How did you know to come looking for me? God, I thought nobody would ever--"  
  
The officer is visibly confused. "We weren't sent here to search for you, sir, but we will offer you any assistance you need."  
  
"Wait... why are you here, then?"  
  
"Somebody else was reported missing in the area. He was found this morning, right over there." The officer jerks his chin in the direction of three other men clad in the same uniform, who emerge from the same patch of trees Newt had stumbled out from the previous night. One is being pulled along by a few search dogs, while the other two are carrying something that oddly resembles a stretcher.  
  
"Hey, speaking of that, have you seen my friend--" Minho stops short when he sees that the men are indeed carrying a stretcher with a person on it- a motionless figure, covered by a white sheet.  
  
"I doubt you would've known him. The kid's friends said he came out here alone." The officer shakes his head with a sigh, oblivious to the horrified expression on Minho's face. "We found the body lying just beyond those trees. Looks like he tripped over something and hit his leg on a large rock a few yards back- it was pretty messed up below the knee. For him to have died that quickly afterwards, I'm guessing it was hypothermia."  
  
"Officer," Minho says slowly, a horrible thought crossing his mind, "who was the victim?"  
  
"Funny name he had- Isaac Newton. Must have been one hell of a smart kid."  
  
By now, Minho is numb with shock. He can barely feel the harsh wind slicing at his cheeks. "No, there must've been some kind of mistake. He was speaking to me just last night, I _met_ him. I swear it."  
  
"That's not possible." The officer looks at Minho pityingly, clearly thinking that the cold must have gotten to his brain. "The body was frozen solid by the time my men found it. I'm afraid the boy's been dead for over a week."

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is taken from a beautiful song by Gordon Lightfoot. I chanced upon it while making my final edits, and realized that some of the lyrics suited the storyline pretty well. (If I could know within my heart/ That you were lonely too/ I would be happy just to hold the hands I love/ Upon this winter night with you)
> 
> I'll leave the purpose of Newt's visit up to your interpretation. I like to think that they both got out of the woods in the end, just not in the way you'd expect. Also, cookies for anyone who manages to spot a TMR reference or two.


End file.
